


Milk Drinker

by FeeFido



Category: Elder Scrolls, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elder Scrolls Fusion, Interracial Relationship, Lactation Kink, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Other, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeeFido/pseuds/FeeFido
Summary: A little thing presented out of context.¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	

Finally alone in the privacy of his room, Star foregoes the genteel mannerisms and plops himself heavily into the large cushioned chair near the hearth, legs sprawled out and sighing blissfully at the weight that’s finally been taken off his aching feet. His bare paws flex and curl before the soothing flames as he wriggles himself deeper into the comfortable chair, still warm and with the scent of the room’s other occupant fresh on the furs draped over the back. Even if said other occupant had been present and seated in this chair—his chair—Star would have carried on with his lounging anyway, the seat that comfortable.

But not comfortable enough. Within a few seconds Star is sitting up once again and hissing in discomfort at the steady ache and throb in his chest; the other painful annoyance that he’s been having to endure all day.

Star reaches around and fumbles with the ties at the back of his dress only long enough to loosen the top of the material, and with a wiggle he frees his shoulders and his arms from the sleeves, before allowing the dress to fall away from his chest, stopping only to pool over the top of his rounded stomach. Looking down, Star moans in dismay at his newest bra, ruined. The extra cotton lining had saved his precious dress from the same comical patches, but just barely, as his bra remained uncomfortable and damp to the touch.  Damnit. And they still ache!

As Star removes the lining and hurriedly unfastens his bra, he hears the door open from behind the tall back of the chair, sounding the return of the chair’s rightful owner. Rather than get up though, the Khajiit merely calls over his shoulder. “About time you showed up! Be useful to your poor mate and get me some fresh clothes,” he orders, sparing the bra and his poor damp and matted fur a glance before tossing the ruined material away with a huff, “and a basin.”

A wordless chuckle causes his ears to twitch in agitation, and Megatronus appears from around the chair for but a moment to retrieve the discarded garment.

“If the stains are that much of a bother you could always do away the clothes entirely,” the Orc suggests smugly for not the fifth time, “you won’t meet any arguments I assure you.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you.” Starscream mutters, too dower to participate in his usual back-and-forth with his mate. He merely leans back into the chair in attempts to keep the weight of his chest to a minimum, and uses one of the less soiled lining to tenderly wipe away what milk hadn’t been caught, or, he shudders, dried into his coat.

The door opens and closes again, and Megatronus returns not a few minutes later with a small pot and a fresh stack of cotton, as ordered. The pleasure of having a command of his followed is short-lived though, as Star winces at yet another throb in his breast.

After setting the pot of water to warm over the fire, Megatronus turns a curious eye on the partly naked Khajiit, and the weight of his gaze on his chest is nearly as tangible as the weight in them.

Star thinks he should probably feel embarrassed, allowing himself to be seen in such an unbecoming way, but between the aches, the discomfort, his own displeasure, he can only feel annoyed. He knows the sight he makes, all bloated and dirtied fur, he doesn’t need any more input.

Thankfully though Megatronus doesn’t comment, he waits for the water to warm and passes the time with idle talk of other happenings, and once he deems it warm enough he wets one of the cloths inside and hands it to Star to clean himself.

It’s slow goings though. The skin all around his breasts have only become more sensitive as his pregnancy has gone on, but where his fur thins out around his nipples is the worst. It doesn’t hurt, not really. But the sensitivity is more than what he’s used to, bordering on uncomfortable, painful even. The fact that he hadn’t set any time aside today to drain himself has only made it worse, and he has only himself to thank for that.

“Do you want some help?”

Star is brought out of his thoughts by Megatronus’ voice, and he looks up from lightly patting his chest—and feeling like a damn fool—to instead look questioningly at his mate. The pale orc had moved closer in that short time standing there, watching him, and his gaze still held that same curious thoughtfulness and had Star both curious in his own right, and wary of what it is his mate has planned.

When Star didn’t immediately respond, Megatronus takes that as his wordless permission, and moves in.

It’s out of that same wary curiosity that Star doesn’t at once try to regain that space as Megatronus leans in over his chair, or try to push the orc away as he takes one massive hand and wraps it around his thinner wrist, and pulls his hand away from where he’d been wiping at his right breast. Unobscured, and thus far undeterred, Megatronus doesn’t hesitate reaching up and dragging his knuckles along the underside of the Khajiit’s swollen breast.

Star inhales a quick breath, and the hand just as quickly gentles.

“Does it hurt when I do that?” Megatronus asks, and Star can hear the softness in his voice. His eyes had fluttered shut too quickly to see.

“No… yes, but… Not from you touching them.” Star answers, and his breath stutters treacherously again as that rough knuckle drags up the slope of his breast where his fur is still wet from his washing. “I’m just… full.”

Thick fingers spread over the swollen weight in his right breast, and Star is almost tempted to slap him away then and deny whatever it is he’s trying to do, but as always, Megatronus knows how to coax him, knows just how fast to move and how not to touch, to get his Khajiit to follow. His hand moves gently now, his fingers circling where liquid continues to bead from one hardened nipple, and his red eyes follow the heavy drop as it finally  trickles down.

A gasp is taken from his chest as Megatronus’ ducks down and swipes away the drop with his tongue, following it all the way back to the same hardened nipple.

Red eyes glance up at him, and Star hisses through clenched fangs, hearing his shaking that he doesn't feel, “Just do it.”

A glint of something shines in those eyes, and Megatronus carefully drops to his knees in front of the chair without hesitation, leaving his head, his mouth, at the perfect height.

 

 

Megatronus stopped being subtle after the third time. Now, he just goes for it.

He still starts in that chair with Star draped across his lap, still nuzzles and presses coaxing kisses into the nape of his neck as he paws at his heavy body through his dress, but now he doesn’t doesn’t hesitate untying the strings at the back of his neck and gently tugging the material down to free his chest and get what he wants. The Orc only pulls away long enough to give Star room to wiggle his arms free and unclasp the back of his bra, his hungry red eyes raking along every inch of fur as it’s exposed to him,  before he’s curling over his body once again, ravaging his Khajiit with playful growls and sharp nips to his dark fur  as he finally gets to lay his hands on bare skin.

His Khajiit has always been tiny and lovely compared to him, but his pregnancy has filled him out in the best of ways, every part of him now seemingly tailored to Megatronus’ larger hands; everything from the swell of their child low in his stomach, the span of his soft hips, and the fullness of his breasts which he cups eagerly in his hand now. He can feel the firm weight under his fingers as he gently squeezes and kneads his tender chest, allowing the wordless gasps and moans to guide how soft and how rough he should be, until he has Star squirming delectably in his lap and he can feel the first warm trickle of fresh milk down his palm.

Sharp claws comb tenderly through his hair, and Megatronus leaves lingering kisses across Star’s collar before ducking down to his chest. He flicks out his tongue and gathers the milk that had beaded up on one hard nipple, smirking at the way Star gasps and the hands in his silver hair curl, before opening his mouth and taking the warm skin between his lips.

At the first gentle suck more milk readily fills his mouth, flowing warm and sweet across his tongue, sweeter to the Orc than any honied mead, all of which he eagerly drinks down while Star quietly moans above his head.

 

 

 

Several days after it’s become a regular occurrence for them, to curl up in front of their hearth and let Megatronus latch to his chest and nurse the fullness and aches away, the next time a disgruntled Nord calls Megatronus a weak “milk-drinker” Star has to cover his mouth to hide his inelegant snort of laughter.

Later, in private, the Khajiit can’t help but comment.

“He’s right, you know,” he purrs to his mate through his reflection across the room, his tail flicking about mischievously under his robes as he idly combs his hair with an ivory brush. The pale Orc glances up after peeling off his last boot, his expression less questioning and more ‘ _ what is it now _ ’ as he kicks his boots aside and unlaces his breeches. Star smirks a sharp-fanged smile into the mirror as he combs his claws through loose ebony locks.  “That Nord from today… he’s going to return to his little Nord village and tell his little Thane about how the great Decepticon lord is nothing but a mewling  _ milk-drinker _ … and he’ll be right.”

Megatronus stares at his snickering Khajiit for a long moment, before his lips spread in a grin that's all tusks and sharp teeth.

"At least he won't be spreading grievous lies," he humors him and, following that trail of thought, stalks across the room to Star's vanity with familiar intent.

Later, when the Orc has buried his face back into the fur on his chest, nose and tusks pressing into firm skin as he latches on to take his fill, Star is still giggling to himself and praising the Nords for their ridiculous insults.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
